Well Excuse Me
by LtsGoAdventure
Summary: Where a sick Michelangelo and grumpy Leonardo cross paths, bicker, get stabbed, and wreak complete and utter havoc around the lair. Presenting a kid-friendly one-shot featuring a bewildered Donatello, unhelpful Raphael, and their desperate wishes to be as far removed from the scene as possible. 2003 verse!


**Well Excuse Me**

 **Where a sick Michelangelo and grumpy Leonardo cross paths, bicker, get stabbed, and wreak complete and utter havoc around the lair. Presenting a kid-friendly one-shot featuring a bewildered Donatello _,_ unhelpful Raphael, and their desperate wishes to be as far removed from the scene as possible.**

 **It was a sudden burst of inspiration. It needed to be done. My other story will be updated within the week!**

 **2003 verse Enjoy!**

* * *

Donatello nervously crouched in the shadows of the bathroom.

Behind him came the steady _drip drip_ of the leaky faucet he was too petrified to fix. Only a sliver of orange light from the wall torches along the hall aided his sight as he peered through a marginal crack in the door.

It was dark and cramped and extremely uncomfortable where he hid. Raphael's presence was beyond overbearing. He pressed tightly against the back of his younger brother's shell, breathing ridiculously hard on Donatello's perspiring neck. Why was he breathing so hard? Donatello wondered, more than a little freaked out.

"Donnie," Raphael hoarsely whispered. "D' ya see em? They still prowlin' around?"

Donatello elbowed his older brother in an attempt to put some space between them. "I don't know Raph," he quietly replied. "I can't see much of anything."

"This was a stupid place ta hide."

" _You_ picked it."

"Yeah well I didn' know we'd be stuck ere for _three hours_ while Bozo the Clown and Splinter Jr. tried to kill everyone."

"You know technically we were just caught in the crossfire. They're only really trying to kill each other."

"You know technically _shut UP_."

Donatello opened his mouth to give a snappy retort of his own when the sound of glass shattering against the wall interrupted. Uncharacteristically heavy footsteps thudded across the downstairs floor below, followed by the all-too-familiar unsheathing of twin blades.

Then came a frightening roar.

Donatello quietly 'eeped!' and drew back behind the safety of the door. That horrible sound thought to belong only to the most primitive of animals, the wildest of beasts, and most rabid among psychotically screaming men, came again, _louder; angrier_ than before.

" _MICHELANGELOOOOOOOO!"_

Oh how Donatello _wished_ it'd been some raging monster stomping through the lair. It would've been ten times easier to handle and a thousand times less terrifying! But no… it was no monster. It was _so much worse._

"Oh man…" he fretted. "Master Splinter sure picked a terrible time to be absent from the lair."

"Yer tellin' me," Raphael grunted.

The two brothers remained huddled in the depths of their small bathroom, listening to the sounds of chaos stirring below. As they huddled and huddled and huddled until they were nearly curled fearfully in one another's arms, Donatello's thoughts rang loud into the storm-tense riddled air.

 _It's not often my oldest brother and youngest brother fight. But when they do it's worse than anything we've ever faced before. And this is coming from someone who's faced the Shredder! I just hope it comes to an end…before one of us ends up dead!_

* * *

 **Three Days Prior**

* * *

Another day, another night, another hour spent sparring on the decrepit rooftop of a New York City project. Leonardo stood between two of his brothers, barking for them to come at him with everything they had. And they did. Only to be severely beaten to the ground moments later.

"You're not reaching far enough with your arm, Raphael."

"Shuddap!"

"Donatello, adjust your grip. It's too easy to disarm you!"

"O-Okay."

"Michelangelo—" Leonardo paused, glancing around. "Michelangelo?" His orange-banded brother was nowhere to be seen. He _had_ left the sewers with them…right?

Seizing the moment of distraction, Raphael lunged, sais twirling. Leonardo bent and grasped his arm without looking, tossing him over his shoulder. Sensing another attack, he dropped low and swept Donatello off his feet.

"Oof!"

"Nice try," Leonardo idly commented. He held up a hand as his two brothers stood to their feet, indicating for their session to pause. Raphael swung anyway. Leonardo ignored him as he missed.

Donatello curiously followed his older brother's gaze. He too had noticed Michelangelo's lack of presence during training. His ears listened carefully as silence fell and sure enough—

 _Pew pew pew!_

Leonardo's eyes narrowed at the sound of 8-bit shooting lasers. He stalked over to a pile of debris in the far corner of the roof, inwardly berating himself for not noticing earlier. Sure enough squatting on his haunches was his youngest brother, avidly caught in a battle of intergalactic proportions; tongue stuck out in a level of concentration Leonardo and Splinter desperately wished he'd apply to his training. Even now, so focused in his game, Michelangelo was ridiculously unaware of Leonardo standing behind him, swords raised.

He certainly noticed when his game dude was horrifically murdered before his eyes.

Michelangelo gaped in shock as bits and pieces of technology crumbled in his hands. "My…game dude…" he tearfully said.

Leonardo swung one of his swords at his younger brother's neck, resting it at the flesh. "Michelangelo…" he dangerously began.

"Not cool, bro. Not cool," Michelangelo replied. He was wise enough not to move. At least not until Leonardo moved his blade away. The orange-banded turtle jumped to his feet and spun around, pointing accusingly at his brother. "I was on the big boss battle dude! Do you know how long it took me to get there?"

Leonardo coolly eyed him. "Not as long as it'll take you to do five hundred punishment flips."

Michelangelo stared. "That's inhumanly possible."

Leonardo smirked. "Well it's a good thing you're a turtle, isn't it?"

Michelangelo gawked. "You—You're not _serious_ are you?"

"I don't joke around."

"Yeah, anyone can tell," Michelangelo uttered.

Raphael and Donatello joined their brothers, noticing the commotion.

"Oooh someone's in trouble," Raphael taunted.

"Shut your shell," Michelangelo snapped. Raphael just laughed.

"Donnie, you and Raph head on back to the lair," Leonardo casually said. "Mikey and I will join you as soon as his punishment is complete."

"Alright, if you say so," Donatello complied. He and Raphael started to leave, but as they did, the genius of the group couldn't help but feel as if something was going to go terribly wrong. The last thing he remembered seeing was Michelangelo's unusually sour face and Leonardo's unrelenting stare before Raphael herded him away.

* * *

Thunder rumbled overhead.

Michelangelo cast the gray overhang a wary look, then dropped his gaze to his oldest brother. "It looks like it's about to rain. Why don't we call it quits for today?"

"Not happening," Leonardo refused, shaking his head. "Five hundred flips _now_."

Michelangelo grumbled obscenities under his breath that would've made Raphael proud and Donatello aghast. All it really served to do was tick Leonardo off more than before.

"Mikey…" he warningly said.

"Alright, alright," Michelangelo exasperatedly replied. "Don't get your knickers in a knot."

The first drops of rain began to fall.

"This isn't a good idea," Michelangelo said. "Seriously, someone could get sick. Someone like me."

"Stop trying to get out of your punishment."

"I'm not. I'm just saying… Besides, it's not like you want to stand out in the rain all night either." Or maybe he did. Michelangelo could never really read his older brother's intentions that well.

"Oh I'm not going anywhere," Leonardo assured him. "I'm staying right here no matter how many hours it takes or how hard it rains."

"Yeah right!" Michelangelo scoffed. "You can't watch me forever!"

About two hundred and twelve flips in, and three hours later, it became apparent that Leonardo could and _would_ watch him for however long it took. He stood still as a statue, arms folded like a displeased sensei overseeing a wild classroom. Even worse he kept announcing every mistake Michelangelo made or told Michelangelo to tuck tighter and leap higher because apparently he wasn't using all his strength.

Psh. How would _he_ know?

After the nth comment from Leonardo—"For the last time Michelangelo _extend_ "—Michelangelo roughly landed on the ground and spun to confront his older brother.

"Extend _what?_ I'm in mid-air! Holy cow! GO TO _SLEEP_ ALREADY YOU PSYCHO!" he finally burst.

Leonardo remained unmoving. "I'm not going to bed until you finish your flips."

"But it's _raining!_ I'm gonna get sick!" Michelangelo protested.

Leonardo's eyes narrowed. "Quit complaining and _do. It. AGAIN_."

Michelangelo knew better than to argue with that tone. The tone that promised weeks of endless torture banned from videogames, comics, and the outside world beyond the sewer if he refused to listen. And the endless training drills. Couldn't forget those.

Thoroughly annoyed and lamenting the bitter fate his drill sergeant of a brother threatened to strike him with, Michelangelo proceeded to stand in the center of the roof again and start the series of tight flips again.

* * *

Another three hours later found them back at the lair at the wee hours of four A.M, soaking wet and shivering hard.

Oddly enough their brothers were still up, both seated on the couch in front the entertainment center, watching the news. Donatello leapt to his feet when he heard them come in.

"Guys, you're back!"

Leonardo smiled wearily as if he had just finished traversing through the mountainous terrain of some deeply forested land. "Yes. It took a while but we're here."

Michelangelo could've rolled his eyes at the theatrics. He could've but he was much too cold to.

"You should go take a shower," Donatello commented, worryingly looking them over.

"Already on it Don," Michelangelo muttered, pushing past Leonardo.

Raphael snorted. "What's with dat attitude Mike? I thought that was my job around ere."

"Well sometimes it can my job too," Michelangelo answered, heading for the stairs.

At the bewildered looks of his two other brothers, Leonardo glanced towards his youngest sibling stomping off. "You'll thank me later," he called after him.

"No I won't!" Michelangelo retorted.

Leonardo sighed. "He's getting worked up over nothing."

Donatello and Raphael exchanged wary glances. It wasn't like their younger brother to hold grudges. Maybe Leonardo had been too hard on him? No… their older brother could be controlling and overbearing but he usually knew when to stop and when to push.

"Bah! He'll get over it," Raphael scoffed aloud, attempting to give everyone—including himself—a peace of mind.

* * *

The next day came far too early for one orange-banded turtle.

He groaned at the sound of Raphael pounding at his door, demanding a breakfast of edible eggs, bacon, and toast. Michelangelo contemplated telling his brother to go jump off a cliff but realized with a drowsy start how badly his throat hurt. It felt itchy and raw as if Klunk had decided to claw at its inside all night long.

Michelangelo let out a low groan. Was his head always pounding this hard? No wait. That was the door.

"Up and at em numbnuts!" Raphael jovially called. "Splinter ain't back yet so Leo's gonna give us our mornin' training."

"Joy," Michelangelo grumbled, too tired to even lift his head off his pillow.

"Oi! I'm not tellin' ya again! Ya better get up or I'll have fearless come an' getcha!"

Michelangelo rolled out of bed at that. The last thing he wanted was to see Leonardo's face sooner than he had to. He was still mad about his broken game but even more mad about his sudden illness. He'd _told_ his brother they should call it quits in the rain.

"Last call Mikey…" Raphael taunted. He was halfway through a rambunctious laugh when the door swung open and he came face-to-face with an ill-looking brother. He cut off immediately. "Er, not to crack a joke or anythin'…but yer lookin' more green than usual bro."

"You don't need to tell me," Michelangelo mumbled, shuffling out the door.

"I'm serious. Maybe you should let Donnie check ya out."

"Sure, whatever, just lemme go die on the couch first."

Raphael grabbed a hold of his younger brother's arm as Michelangelo unsteadily made his way towards the stairs. "How about I help ya huh? We don't need ya fallin' and crackin' your head now. You've got no more brain cells to spare you know."

"Hardy har."

Michelangelo didn't protest as he was guided towards the couch, inwardly grateful to have a helping hand, because the walls were seriously pulling in and out and for some reason the floor kept disappearing when he lifted a foot. He was on the verge of a breakdown by the time Raphael left to retrieve their genius brother. Thankfully Donatello was already up and about, tinkering with several tools in his lab.

Michelangelo had his face in a couch cushion by the time his older brothers returned.

"Oh Mikey…" Donatello sighed, sounding a little exasperated.

"Oh Donnie," Michelangelo mocked lightly into the couch. "Help me. I'm dying."

"You're not dying, goofball," Donatello chided, gently easing his head up. He hoisted his younger brother under the arms and sat him up. Raphael lingered close by, arms folded, expression pinched.

"So what's da matter with em?"

Donatello set a hand on Michelangelo's forehead, nearly flinching back at the heat. "Wow! That's some fever. How's your breathing?" he questioned the younger turtle.

"My throat hurts," Michelangelo mumbled. "Head feels clogged. Nose stuffy." He could feel himself zoning out.

Donatello lightly cupped his brother's cheeks, turning his head carefully from side to side as he studied the glassy fog creeping over his brother's eyes.

"Okay buddy, you're quite ill," he announced.

"What a stellar deduction," Raphael sarcastically said. Donatello rolled his eyes.

It was at that time that Leonardo, having noticed no one in the dojo other than himself, finally left to investigate. He saw almost immediately his three brothers crowded near the couch. His eye ridges furrowed in confusion.

"What's wrong? Is something going on?" he questioned as he walked over.

Donatello sighed, dropping his hands from his miserable younger brother. "Mikey's sick. It's surprisingly severe."

Michelangelo pitifully coughed, then glanced up at Leonardo with a mordacious glower. "See? I told you I'd get sick," he rasped.

An unreadable look crossed the other turtle's face, but it was a fleeting shadow, gone when Donatello blinked again. He inwardly groaned when he saw the expression his oldest brother now wore. One of complete stubbornness with a fresh side of self-righteousness and the firm belief he had done nothing wrong.

"You wouldn't have gotten sick if you had sparred properly with the rest of us the first place."

Michelangelo really didn't have a retort to that. And he couldn't bother too. He didn't feel up to it. Not to mention every time he talked it felt like he was swallowing a rake.

Leonardo uncomfortably shifted, sensing the tenseness in the air his comment had caused. He cleared his throat and turned. "Donatello, finish tending to Mikey then join me in the dojo. Raph, come on. We've got a new set of katas to do."

"Shouldn't we take care of Mikey first?" Raphael asked, refusing to move.

"I just assigned Donnie to. Now let's get moving."

Raphael grumbled under his breath but followed after Leonardo anyway. He paused however to look at Donatello and say, "Ya better take good care of 'im before joinin' us, Don."

"I know Raph," Donatello kindly answered. He faced Michelangelo again and pat his head in a placating manner. "Alright Mikey, let's get you comfortable."

* * *

All things considered, even though it _sucked_ to be sick, at least he didn't have to train and at least he could lie on the couch all day and watch TV. Splinter had disappeared the night before, mentioning something about visiting someone at someplace.

Michelangelo wasn't too sure. He'd zoned out halfway through Splinter's goodbye speech, caught in a daydream about Raphael, The Hulk, and The Thing forming a superhero trio and saving the day while effectively terrifying all those around.

Donatello checked in on him often, bringing him light food to eat and warm tea to sip. Raphael, until he'd gotten hungry and went to the kitchen for lunch, had been sitting beside him, complaining about every show Michelangelo turned on but never once changing the channel despite the fact that he had the remote in his hands.

Michelangelo smiled to himself. _Raphael loved him~ Raphael loved him~_ He would've sang it aloud if his throat didn't ache so much. He could hear his red-banded brother now, opening and shutting the fridge in the kitchen; clanging bowls in an attempt to concoct some sort of edible meal.

And suddenly the show Michelangelo watched was being blocked by a muscular form equipped with two swords and a blue mask.

Oh great. Graced by the presence of the catalyst himself.

Michelangelo didn't try and hide his unhappiness. No matter what anyone said, it was his brother's fault he had gotten sick. He had even tried convincing his blue-banded brother to head back to the lair where he could finish out his punishment. But _nooo…_ that would take away from the lesson Leonardo was trying to teach him. A lesson which, by the way, Michelangelo hadn't learned because there _was_ no lesson to learn other than the fact that his brother was a big turd.

Leonardo continued to stand in front the televisions with a disapproving frown. "You're still sitting here watching cartoons?"

Michelangelo scoffed and slumped further into his self-made nest of blankets and pillows. "Well _excuse_ me _mom_. I was just trying to relax and recover from this horrendous _fever_ I've got because _someone_ made me do flips outside in the rain all night like some stupid dolphin."

And just like that it started. As if someone had pushed the start button on a time bomb slowly counting down.

Leonardo's face tightened. His arms fell stiffly to his sides. There was a steel edge in his eyes only the worst of their enemies received.

Michelangelo saw the signs—and ignored it. His head felt unbearably hot and stuffy, his nose was clogged, and no matter how he sat in the couch his body ached. So it was no surprise to himself, really, when he finally got fed up with his older brother standing in front of him and angrily snapped, "Now get outta the way already! You're blocking the TV!"

Leonardo stood still for a very long time. And then he lunged.

It was at that time that Raphael came back from the kitchen, cheerfully whistling with two bowls of soup in his hands. He paused at the unbelievable sight of his older brother attempting to strangle his younger, flailing brother with a bunch of bedsheets. He dashed forwards, the bowls left to clatter and break on the floor.

"Oi— what da hell are ya doin' Leo?!"

"Don't worry, Raphael," Leonardo calmly said as he shoved Michelangelo's head between two couch cushions. "I'm just having a little _chat_ with Mikey. He seems to have lost his manners. I'm helping him find them."

Raphael seized the blue-banded turtle from behind, trying to yank him away from Michelangelo. "Yer crazy! Absolutely crazy!"

Of course Donatello, having heard the shouts from his lab, wandered out. His jaw dropped. "What's going on out here?!" he cried in dismay.

And just like that all his other brothers stopped.

Donatello hurried over as Raphael and Leonardo separated. Leonardo released his hold on Michelangelo's head and the sheets covering his face, silently backing away. There was a moment where the three brothers stood beside one another, staring at the couch and at Michelangelo who had yet to move. Then Donatello whipped his head to glare accusingly at his oldest brother.

"What were you doing?!" he demanded to know.

Leonardo stiffly turned and began walking away with the intent to meditate in the dojo. "He had it coming," was all he said.

Donatello shook his head in frustration. "Leo don't harm my patients!" he snapped after him. Leonardo didn't answer, already gone. Donatello exhaled heavily in frustration before going to check on Michelangelo who still hadn't opened his eyes. The genius turtle frowned slightly. Was he even awake?

"He killed im," Raphael mournfully lamented. "He really killed im."

Donatello rolled his eyes. "He's not _dead_ Raph."

"Well he's not alive," Raphael scoffed.

Donatello sighed. "Just help me carry him to his room."

"Alright, alright…"

With their brother slumped between them, Donatello and Raphael began a slow trudge towards the stairs. It was silent for a moment as they reflected upon earlier events. Suddenly Raphael spoke.

"You know it's not often dat Mikey and Leo fight."

"Yeah…"

"I don' like it. It don't feel right, ya know?"

"I'm sure it'll all blow over by tomorrow," Donatello assured his brother. "Mikey gets irritated easily when he's sick, and Leo, well he probably feels guilty about the whole situation, but he's too stubborn to admit it."

Raphael scoffed. "I don't know if ya noticed, bro. But dat must've been some intense guilt to make Leo go bananas and try to strangle Mikey."

Donatello silently agreed but didn't voice it aloud. _Someone_ had to stay relatively calm about the entire situation. "Like I said, Raph, it'll blow over."

"If you're sure…" Raphael grumbled.

"I'm sure," Donatello firmly replied with absolute zero confidence.

* * *

Donatello's hopes and dreams of the problem vanishing overnight were shattered as he awoke to the sounds of angry bickering from outside his lab. He wiped the drool from his mouth, pushing away from his desk with great reluctance to investigate the growing noise.

It was 8:00 A.M., Michelangelo was lying on the couch in a pile of blankets and pillows and snacks, and Leonardo was standing over him once again blocking the television sets. Purposefully doing slow katas that somehow took up all screens at once.

"-can't even watch my shows!" Michelangelo was yelling, voice horribly raspy and hoarse. "It's your fault I'm sick!"

"It's your own fault your sick," Leonardo placidly replied, though a burning fire simmered within the shadows of his eyes. He shifted his body into another obnoxious form. "Besides, I'm only training. Something _you_ should learn how to do properly."

Michelangelo scowled. "Not everyone's freakily obsessed with training. _Some_ of us have better things to do."

Donatello noted idly in the back of his mind that his two arguing brothers could probably power a rocket ship to the moon with the sheer amount of sarcasm they'd exchanged over the past two days.

"They could build a freakin' rocket ship to da moon with the amount of sarcasm they're usin'," Raphael commented as he walked up behind Donatello from the garage.

Donatello frowned. "How long have they been fighting?" he questioned.

"Since dawn," Raphael answered. "They won't stop atagonizin' each other."

"I guess I can't blame you though," Michelangelo was saying, a sour note in his tone. "It's not your fault you're so obsessed. It's not like you have anything else to do except meditate and swung your swords. Because you're boring. And mean. And did I mention boring?"

Leonardo ceased his kata movements, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Well _excuse_ me," he mockingly began. "I humbly apologize for wanting to train and keep in shape instead of lying around all day like a beached whale snacking on cheese puffs and chips."

"Ohoho…shots fired," Raphael breathed. Donatello nudged him in the side.

"Not helping."

" _Beached whale?_ " Michelangelo echoed. He leapt from the couch, spilling his snacks all over. Wrapped so profusely in his blankets as he was, with his skin more red than green near his beak, he looked more like an offended cat than the threatening turtle he was trying to be. "First of all whales live in oceans, not _sewers_. You forget that shell-for-brains? And they don't like beaches. Beaches kill them. So your insult is stupid. Just like you. Because you're stupid."

"Man…bazooka fired back," Raphael excitedly whispered. Donatello rolled his eyes.

Leonardo stepped forward and jabbed a finger hard into Michelangelo's plastron. "Watch who you're calling stupid, _Michelangelo._ We all know who _that_ title belongs to."

"And boom!" Raphael crowed.

Michelangelo slapped Leonardo's hand away. "You're lucky I'm sick, otherwise I'd give you the biggest beat down of your life ala Battle Nexus Champion style!"

Leonardo degradingly grinned. "Oh please. We all know you won that on a fluke."

A thunderous silence fell. All four brothers stood, one shocked, two terrified, and one completely smug.

"Aw shell," Raphael mumbled, no longer cheerful.

"Aw shell is right," Donatello agreed with a frown. There were some lines that they didn't cross. And Leonardo just went and took a giant nose-dive onto the other side of that line.

Michelangelo glared heatedly into his blue-banded brother's eyes, regretting—not for the first time—his lack of ability to make people explode with one look. Then he turned and shuffled towards the stairs, heading upstairs in absolute silence.

* * *

Dinner was a violent affair that night.

Raphael and Donatello sat beside one another at the kitchen counter, eyes down, forks clinking absently on their dinner plates. Across from them sat a petulant Michelangelo and tight-lipped Leonardo, currently cutting into their food so hard they were nearly sawing though their plates.

"You feeling better?" Leonardo was asking with a voice and expression that said he couldn't care less.

"No thanks to you," Michelangelo sweetly replied.

"Stop playing with your food and eat it already. You're not going to get better if you don't give your body the help that it needs."

"You're not the boss of me."

"I'm your _leader_."

A look of fake astonishment crossed Michelangelo's face. " _Really?_ I didn't know! Since when do leaders put their followers' health in danger?"

Leonardo narrowed his eyes. "Since _all the time_ if the situation calls for it."

"Look, all your talking is kinda ruining dinner," Michelangelo muttered, "so if you could stop forever that'd be great."

Leonardo casually raised his fork. "Sure. I'll stop talking." Without warning he slammed it into his youngest brother's hand. "As soon as you quit playing with your food!"

" _Owweoowwwwww!"_ Michelangelo howled. "You psycho! Why would you do that?!"

Raphael burst into sharp laughter.

Leonardo shrugged a shoulder. "Sorry, my hand must've slipped."

A thunderous cloud settled on Michelangelo's face. He quickly seized his own fork he dropped in pain before jabbing it into Leonardo's shoulder. "Suck on that you stupid jerk!"

"Quit stabbing each other!" Donatello exclaimed, jerking the forks from their hands. "What's wrong with you two? You're not five year olds anymore!" He rounded on Raphael who had yet to stop chuckling. "And you! Stop laughing or you'll be the one with a fork in your hand!"

Raphael raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, the grin wiped clean off his face. His younger brother could be scary when he wanted to.

Dinner was spoiled, no one but Raphael was amused, and once more the issue broiling between two of the turtles only grew worse. The tension was incredibly thick in the air. Not for the first time Donatello wished their sensei had returned from whatever voyage he'd embarked on. He'd be able to put a stop to this stupid argument right away.

But alas when the third day slowly came around, Splinter was still absent, Michelangelo was still sick—steadily getting worse—and Leonardo was still refusing to admit his mistake.

So it was no surprise to anyone when things got _really_ crazy.

* * *

Donatello, baffled as to why his oldest brother acted so unusually stubborn, had at one point during the early morning pulled him aside to have a talk.

"You're usually more responsible than this," Donatello told him, bandaging a thin cut on Leonardo's head. The result of a minor scuffle between Michelangelo that ended with the youngest brother almost cracking a chair on Leonardo's skull. Luckily the blue-banded turtle had dodged in time, but forgot about the wall next to him.

Leonardo absently rubbed the band-aid his younger brother placed on his injury. "You don't understand Donnie. I _am_ trying to be responsible. I don't like seeing Mikey sick, it's just…" he exhaled deeply. "He's testing my patience. I was trying to be nice yesterday but he says the most obnoxious things…!"

Donatello stared. "Do you remember anything you said yesterday? You were pretty obnoxious too. And what was with the katas in front the TV?"

"I _was_ practicing in the dojo," Leonardo sourly began, "but apparently I was being 'too loud'. Michelangelo shouted at me to pipe down and well… I got irritated and went to annoy him."

"Don't respond to his taunts, Leo," Donatello chided lightly. "You know how fussy he gets when he's sick. Everyone has to be in the same flow as him."

"I wouldn't care but he's pushing the whole lack of respect thing. I'm his older brother and his leader. Most of the self I do is for the sake of his well-being. I admit it was a mistake to keep us out in the rain for so long, but he can't keep slacking off on his training," Leonardo said, lines of frustration etched on his features. "Our enemies won't hesitate to cut us down."

Donatello soothingly patted his older brother's knee. "I'll talk to Mikey, Leo. He knows you mean well. He's not thinking clearly right now, that's all."

Leonardo merely sighed.

* * *

Donatello found Michelangelo in Raphael's room, swinging idly in the hammock while making flying ship noises. Raphael was sitting against the wall, watching the orange-banded turtle in a mixture of resignation, humor, and annoyance.

"Oh good, you're here," Raphael said when he caught sight of Donatello.

The purple-banded turtle stepped inside the room. "Do I even want to know?"

"…No."

Donatello stopped beside the hammock and curiously met his younger brother's lively eyes. "Mikey? Can I ask you a question?"

Michelangelo grinned. "Of course, Donnie." His voice was congested as ever as his nose dripping snot like some sort of sludge monster, but he seemed to be in better spirits than before.

Good.

"Why are you so mad at Leo?"

Michelangelo looked at him, startled. Raphael, on the other hand, pushed to his feet and headed for the door.

"I just remembered I left da stove on."

Donatello rolled his eyes at the excuse. He rolled them so hard he almost missed Michelangelo's confession.

"I'm not mad at him," the younger turtle admitted in a mumble. "Not really. I don't like being sick. It's not fun and it really sucks and every time I see Leo I'm reminded of why I got sick in the first place and that sucks too. And then he says all this stupid stuff that makes me annoyed and I just… I don't know. I can't help but get mad."

Donatello found himself smiling. "Leo only wants you to get better. He told me himself. So why don't you two put an end to all this bickering? It's really making things around here tense."

Michelangelo half-heartedly shrugged. "Sure. I guess."

Donatello affectionately rubbed his brother's head before going to leave. He couldn't help but feel pleased with himself for playing the role of mediator. It was a job well done if he did say so himself! Feeling a little more at ease, he decided he would leave the lair for a brief time. To help clear his head and get some fresh air. Whatever happened Raphael could handle it.

But Donatello should've known better. There was always a calm before the storm.

* * *

He didn't know how it happened.

One second the lair was at peace and in the next Leonardo's room was on fire.

Raphael ran onto the scene to see Leonardo attempting to punch a hole into Michelangelo's head. Both were ignoring the raging orange flames several feet away in favor of yelling at each other. Again.

"How could you do this, Mikey?! This is over the line even for you!" Leonardo shouted, and _wow_ he was _really_ pissed.

"It was an accident!" Michelangelo protested, fearfully holding up his hands. "I didn't do it on purpose, I was just—!"

" _I don't want to hear it Michelangelo!"_

Raphael, who had run down to the kitchen and booked it back up the stairs, now threw a large bucket of cold water on both his brothers and the fire. It did nothing to stop the fire but it _did_ manage to shut his brothers up.

"Raphael!" Leonardo sputtered, pushing away from Michelangelo.

"Don't ya 'Raphael' me!" the red-banded turtle snapped. "The hell is wrong with ya?!"

Michelangelo pushed away from the wall he'd been shoved against, wiping a hand against his dripping nose. "Leo thinks I set his room on fire—but I was just going in there to—"

"There's no excuse for what you've done," Leonardo angrily interrupted.

"I was _trying_ to apologize. It's your fault for having lit candles everywhere!"

"I use them to meditate!"

"SHUDDAP!" Raphael roared. "Your stupid fight is getting' out of hand!" he barked at them. "Donnie even left to get some fresh air 'cuz you _morons_ are stinkin' it with yer rotten attitude!"

Leonardo folded his arms, lips pressed tight. Michelangelo had the decency to look guilty but it was quickly replaced with petulance.

"I didn't set his room on fire," he insisted.

"I don't care what ya did or didn't do, Mikey. Both of you just knock it off!" Raphael growled before spinning on his heel and stalking off, bucket clanging against his leg as he spat curses loud enough for anyone topside to hear.

* * *

Not even an hour later a shrill shriek could be heard coming from Michelangelo's room.

"My _babies!"_

Raphael immediately vanished inside the garage. He was _not_ tossing another bucket of water on anyone or anything.

Meanwhile upstairs in Michelangelo's room were two feuding brothers. One with a look or horror, rage, and despair in his eyes, and the other watching a pile of comics burn in the center of the floor with complete satisfaction.

"You set my room fire, _I_ burn your books," Leonardo scathingly said.

"I told you it was an accident!" Michelangelo furiously exclaimed.

Leonardo humorlessly smirked. "Well consider this an accident too."

Michelangelo stood seething as his older brother roughly brushed by. It was at that moment the youngest turtle swore revenge. Revenge of the highest order. Should he sneeze on his toothbrush? Sneeze in his bed? No… Michelangelo's eyes lit up. He knew something far better than a sneeze. Leonardo wouldn't forget what he was about to do.

Michelangelo rubbed his hands together in a wholly evil manner. He followed his brother none—to-discretely—out into the gall and watched as Leonardo paused downstairs, glaring at him from near the kitchen. Michelangelo coughed and averted his gaze. He waited until he could hear Leonardo fumbling like a newborn with kitchen utensils before he made his move. With a grim smile—and the utmost of stealth— Michelangelo headed for Splinter's room where he knew Leonardo had momentarily stored his swords.

* * *

Donatello returned from his walk around the sewers some time later in the night.

He could hear Leonardo in the dojo venting his frustrations on Raphael. The genius brother could already guess what had happened. Raphael hadn't _actually_ volunteered to spar. It was probably more of Leonardo seizing him by the arm and dragging him into the dojo's depths despite the myriad of vicious curses Raphael spewed. Donatello was just glad he had left the lair before his eldest brother had sought him out.

That's when he caught sight of Michelangelo descending the stairs, whistling a merry tune.

Donatello stared and kept staring, even after his youngest brother plopped himself on the couch in front the entertainment center.

Raphael stormed out of the dojo at the time, rotating his arms and cracking his neck. "Damn nut job…" he was muttering. "Is he tryin' to kill me or what?" He caught sight of Donatello near the lair entrance, ignoring Michelangelo for the time being. "Don, you're back. Thank _God._ "

Donatello somberly smiled. "That bad huh?"

"They set things on _fire."_

"Dudes, I can totally hear you," Michelangelo spoke up from the couch in a voice muffled by his own congestion.

"I thought you guys were going to work things out," Donatello frowned, approaching his brother. Raphael followed.

"I _was_ ," Michelangelo scowled. "But I tripped on one of his candles and before I knew it all the others fell like dominos and everything was on fire. I _tried_ to explain it was an accident but no one listened." He glared accusingly at Raphael. The red-banded turtle only scoffed.

"That's why I pulled the ultimate prank," Michelangelo went on to say. "I might be sick but something small like that's not gonna stop the Turtle Titan from dishing out justice!"

Donatello stared at his youngest brother with a growing feeling of dread. "What did you do?"

Michelangelo smiled a small smile. "Oh nothing. Just tinkered with fearless's swords."

Raphael and Donatello exchanged horrified looks. Michelangelo did something to their oldest brother's swords? They hastily started backing away.

Nope. They were in no way involved with Michelangelo from this point on. He was on his own.

Michelangelo, noticing the sudden change in behavior, raised an eye ridge. "Bros... what's wrong?" he asked.

"Oh nothing," Donatello began.

"We're just gonna…take a nap," Raphael hesitantly finished.

Michelangelo looked confused. "O…kay."

And that was about the time Donatello and Raphael skirted off to the bathroom.

Michelangelo shrugged and turned on the TVs.

* * *

About three hours later Leonardo left the dojo, worn from his weaponless training and second meditation session. Luckily _this one_ hadn't been interrupted by a fire.

He briefly passed the entertainment area, noting Michelangelo's head. His younger brother didn't acknowledge him. Leonardo sighed. His time in the dojo had helped clear his head and the anger clouding his sense of judgment. He would apologize and put an end to all the bickering after a nice shower. But first he would collect his swords, put in Splinter's room for safe-keeping.

Michelangelo, on the other hand, slouched further into the couch, barely able to keep the growing glee off his face. Completely unaware of his brother's intentions, he sat anxiously in anticipation for Leonardo to find the little 'gift' he'd left in Splinter's room.

It didn't take long.

" _Michelangelo_!" Leonardo suddenly yelled.

The orange-banded turtle burst into loud snickers.

Leonardo stomped out of Splinter's room, swords in hand, the sheaths caught in a large assortment of silly string, cheese power, and an unidentifiable green glop he would rather not think about.

He swung his head madly for the one he knew to be responsible for the _vandalisim_ of his weapons. His soul and heart. Covered in trash— and maybe poison.

There was no answer. Michelangelo could no longer be seen near the television sets.

Leonardo prowled across the lower floor of the lair. "Where are you? You can't hide forever!" he barked.

"You wanna bet?" Michelangelo popped up from behind the couch, one of Splinter's prized vases in his hand. "Eat your heart out on _this_ you big jerk! That's for my comics!"

Leonardo barely tucked in time as the vase was launched at his head. It loudly smashed against the wall behind him. Leonardo straightened, looking at the shattered pieces of glass in disbelief. Then he swiveled on his heels, pinning his brother with an unforgiving glare.

"That was Master Splinter's," he growled. "You _will_ pay for that." He unsheathed his swords—and froze.

Scribbled on the left blade was the word 'Lame-o-nardo'; on the right blade 'Sukz!'. The blue-banded turtle's hands shook. His vision profusely bled.

" _MICHELANGELOOOO!"_

He saw a flash of orange heading for the dojo. Leonardo was upon him faster than a hurricane. He tackled his brother hard to the floor. Michelangelo twisted and flailed in an attempt to break free.

"Oh no…!" Donatello gasped with deep dread, having left the confines of the bathroom at Leo's tremendous roar. He had to intervene—before someone was seriously hurt! He leapt off the edge, not even bothering to use the stairs, and bolted across the room.

Leonardo swung his swords down with the intent to kill.

Michelangelo's face suddenly turned very, very pale. His arms dropped to his sides; his stomach lurched.

Donatello ran up behind them. "Leo—wait!" He skidded to a halt, seeing the blades reverbrating violently from where they'd been stabbed into the ground, crossed like an 'X' at Michelangelo's neck.

No one moved for an entire movement.

Raphael worriedly approached—having finally left the bathroom as well—and walked at a brisk pace towards the trio. "Leo, bro…"

Leonardo lifelessly stood. Then he turned around, staring down at his plastron, legs, and feet. "He…threw up on me."

"Aw ew!"

"Gross!"

Donatello and Raphael leapt away.

Leonardo blankly eyed them. They stared back with bated breaths, wondering what his next move would be. He reached out and yanked his katanas from the ground. His eyes ran over the graffitied blades with a sudden weariness. He sheathed them silently before his gaze fell onto his youngest brother: sprawled unconscious and slathered in his own vomit like a disgusting gravy dish hot out the oven. Leonardo grimaced. He leaned down and picked Michelangelo up, carrying him somewhat resignatedly in his arms.

"Um… not to interrupt or anything," Donatello hesitantly began. "But what are you going to do with him?"

"Take a shower," Leonardo grumbled, slowly trudging past them with a disgruntled look. "You'll have a proper look at him afterwards, won't you Donatello?"

Donatello blinked. "Uhh…sure?"

"Good."

And just like that Leonardo was gone, disappearing up the stairs without a single glance back. Raphael gaped at a loss. When he finally found his words their oldest brother had already locked himself and their youngest brother inside the bathroom.

"Ya better cool your heads while yer in there!"

Donatello placed a calming hand on Raphael's shoulder. "It's over," he said. "It's over."

And if few manly tears were shed between the two at the finality of the words, it was never bought up or spoken about again.

* * *

Donatello woke to the smell of sizzling eggs and merry singing.

He slowly sat in bed, for once falling asleep in his room rather than the lab, staring blankly at the sheets bunched in his lap. He felt like he'd spent the last few days in a fog. A very violent, loud, terrifying fog. But now that was gone and his mind was clear; filled with a pleasant buzz.

He leapt to the floor and stretched his arms. It seemed…brighter in the lair. Peaceful.

A smile spread across his face.

He _may_ or may not have skipped down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Mikey! I'm glad to see you're feeling—!" Donatello halted in the doorway.

Leonardo turned and smiled at him, spatula in hand, and an apron around his waist. "Good morning Donatello."

"Oh _God_ ," Donatelo cried. " _Why?_ "

Leonardo blinked, clearly taken aback. "I was making breakfast," he slowly said. "You're right on time. It's just about done."

"Is it edible?" Donatello whispered.

"Of course it is. Why wouldn't it be?" Leonardo questioned, ushering him to a nearby stool.

"'Cuz it's you," Raphael's gruff voice suddenly said from the kitchen entrance. He seemed equally disturbed by the unnatural scene of his older brother near the stove. "Ya can't cook."

Leonardo lightly scoffed. "I beg to differ."

Raphael and Donatello, seated at the kitchen counter, watched cautiously as their brother dished out scrambled eggs and bacon onto two plates. He served himself a bowl of cereal then sat across from them, eating his shredded wheat with a strange kind of vigor.

Donatello and Raphael exchanged hesitant glances before digging in.

"Wow. Er—it's surprisingly good," Raphael warily complimented.

"Yeah…" Donatello agreed. He glanced around them. "Um… where's Mikey?"

As if summoned by the power of Donatello's words alone, Michelangelo appeared in the doorway, slouched over and bleary-eyed. He said nothing about Leonardo dressed in his apron and nothing about the delicious food his other brothers were eating, shuffling to the open stool beside Leonardo instead.

"Is there anymore food left?" he hoarsely asked, clearly still sick.

Leonardo stood and patted him on the shoulder. "Of course, Michelangelo. If there's anything you need, you can always come to me. I promise to take care of you."

Michelangelo grasped his brother's hand tightly between his own. "Leo… I always knew you cared. You always liked me the most, right?"

Leonardo sagely nodded his head. "Without a doubt."

Then Splinter came in bearing good tidings and cheer.

Donatello stared slack-jawed. "What's happening?" he asked aloud. He turned to Raphael. " _What's happening?_ What's happening…? What's…?"

* * *

"… _atello. Donatello_!"

His eyes snapped open. Immediately he was assaulted by the sound of rumbling thunder and falling rain. Past the blurry images of his brothers' heads he could see the gray sky. It was grower darker by the second.

"Donnie? Bro, are you okay?"

Donatello started at Michelangelo's voice. He sat despite his brothers' protests and seized the orange-banded turtle by the shoulders. "Mikey— _what happened_?"

Michelangelo leaned back, caught off guard by the intensity in his older brother's eyes. "Oh, um… you kinda got whacked in the head by Raph while you were sparring. Leo was trying to catch my attention and I guess you looked over to see what was going on." He hesitated, peering worriedly into Donatello's eyes. "Are you feeling okay, bro? You look…umm…"

Like a desperate madman frothing at the mouth, is what he _wanted_ to say. He didn't though because it wasn't very polite.

Leonardo knelt beside Donatello. "Can you stand?"

"Yeah." And that was really all a dumfounded Donatello could say. So everything he thought happened was just a dream? _Thank the heavens_ , he silently thought, slumping in relief.

Raphael carefully helped him to his feat. "I'm real sorry Don, I didn't mean ta hurt ya. I thought you were still payin' attention."

"No, it's no one's fault," Donatello assured him. He paused, shooting Michelangelo a look that nobody caught. "Not really, anyway," he added under his breath.

"Let's get you inside," Leonardo said, guiding him towards the door. "We wouldn't want anyone to get sick now."

Donatello slowly shook his head. "No we _wouldn't_."

* * *

 **A/N: And finish! Oh my God...that was such a long thing to write. Also an excessive amount of line breaks. Sorry haha!**

 **Hopefully you guys chuckled once or twice :D**


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